


An Hour To Kill My Family

by lilaccoffee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Member Death, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Up, POV First Person, Time Skips, Vegetarians & Vegans, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaccoffee/pseuds/lilaccoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's whole life has been planned by his mother since he was born. With an older and younger sister, two older brothers and two younger ones, he's never been able to stand out. With his mother busy planning his eldest brother's wedding, Harry finally has a chance to make his own choices. It's then that he meets Louis, a free spirited boy with a loud personality who makes him feel like he has a voice in the overcrowded and hectic mess that is his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Hour To Kill My Family

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Some things in this are NOT factual. I have made Harry have five extra siblings. Clearly they do not exist in real life. This is an AU, so.

**Harry's POV**

 

Mother has always told me to grow up, get married, and have as many kids as I can. She has seven; five boys and two girls, each two years apart and the apples of Father's eye. Gemma is the oldest of us and she's always been the leader. Then there's Cynthia, eleven years old and one of the most annoying kids I have ever met. I fit in the middle, James before me and Greyson before him. “Lucky number four,” as Mother says. We're all a lucky something. Holden is lucky five and Brody is lucky six.

Mother is proudest of Gemma because she's twenty-three and is already starting a family of her own. Three years married with a baby on the way. Mother is hoping her granddaughter will be a girl. She's already gone out and bought baby clothes and everything, even though Gemma is only four months along and is keeping the gender a surprise until the child is born. I think Mother is trying to fill in that part of her that's missing her fourth baby girl by putting all this work into Gemma's baby.

Cynthia used to never want marriage. I said it was because she was seven and thought every boy had cooties. I used to think she was just plain stupid for suggesting such a thing, but then I watched Gemma throw away her dreams of becoming a nurse for some boy and a baby and decided marriage is pretty dumb.

I was fourteen then, and have since aged three years. I still think marriage is a dumb idea, but Cynthia now thinks it's the greatest idea in the world. After being the flowergirl at Gemma's wedding, she thought they're pretty cool and started planning one of her own. Holden sat with me at one of the tables for the whole thing and we talked about how much we never want this. He said that if he ever were to get married, it would be a private wedding that Cynthia couldn't ruin. I countered that point by telling him she would be much older by the time he's married, but he wouldn't have it. I just let Holden have his way without saying much else.

Greyson got engaged this year. Mother was thrilled, but I saw the unhappiness behind the glee in Father's eyes. At the time, I thought he was just upset about the rainy weather, but now I realize that he was hoping that his eldest son would follow in his footsteps and become a doctor. Lillian was just starting dental school and managed to convince Greyson to join her so they could open a business together.

After the engagement party, Holden and I ditched to our aunt's farm. It wasn't overly huge, about fifty acres with three horses, seven cows (one for each child), five sheep, and six pigs. She died a few weeks after the party, and though Mother insisted on not going back anymore, Holden and I sneak off every once and awhile. Greyson's wedding makes it easier because Mother spends all her time planning it, though he says Lillian wants to wait a year or so before they actually start putting wedding plans into place. But Mother is stubborn, so there really wasn't any talking her out of it once she made up her mind.

Holden and I have always been close, closer than I've ever been with any of my other siblings. James is a close second. The day we snuck off from the engagement parties was one of my favourites we have ever spent together. We were lying in the grass, Holden's head in my lap. I was reading, but I wasn't getting very far, as he kept poking me in the thigh. Once his teasing became irritating, I closed my book and set it down, staring at Holden's face. I kept quiet, for I knew he'd start speaking soon enough.

“I don't understand why Greyson feels the need to rush into marriage,” he'd said.

I'd hummed. “I still think it's stupid. Getting married, I mean.”

“I just don't get why Mum thinks we need to make these life decisions now.” Holden had turned his head to look at my face. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” I'd nodded. “God, I'm never going to get married. I don't want her to take over and ruin it, you know?”

“I do,” he'd replied. “Only, Mum is going to be pissed.”

“I know.” I'd smiled to myself, corners of my lips tugged up in the beggings of a smirk. “It's just... She needs to learn that she can't control everyone. Poor Greyson is probably going to regret ever wanting to get married after Mum's through with this wedding.”

“Dad should step in,” Holden had said.

I'd snorted. “Like hell he will. This is Dad we're talking about.”

“I know.” He'd huffed, blowing a piece of his bangs out of his eyes. “Harry, can I ask you something?”

“Course,” I'd replied.

He'd taken a deep breath before speaking. “I'm just wondering, what's it like to be in love?”

“I don't know.” I'd shrugged. “I've never been in love before, so I can't answer that. But I'll tell you as soon as I find someone I love, okay?”

“Okay,” he'd answered. “Fall in love soon, yeah? I don't want to wait forever.”

“Neither do I.” I'd chuckled, but I didn't smile.

That's where it all started for me; the obsession with Greyson and Lillian's relationship. It isn't them per se. I like to observe love before I feel it myself. I'd go to Gemma's flat, but she's always emotional or super hormonal, and Sam doesn't like me. He was all sweet until I didn't give him my blessing before he proposed to my sister. Things have been downhill for us since then.

The day of Greyson's wedding, Mother wakes me up really early. She comes into my room at half passed eight, shaking my shoulder to rouse me. I groan and sling my arm over my forehead, blinking my eyes open slowly and turn my head to look at her.

“Hmm?” My voice isn't quite working yet.

“Get up, Harry. Greyson's wedding is today and you need to shower and get ready,” she says. I've heard these words before, for Gemma's wedding. “Remember, it's at three thirty.”

“I know,” I snap, glaring at her. “I'll be out in a second.”

“No, now,” she commands and crosses her arms over her chest.

“ _Okay_ , mum.” I put the strain on the word to try and get her to leave. 

She glares back but turns to leave. She doesn't shut my door, and when I call her out on it, she says, “If you want it closed, you have to get up. And if you get up, you can march yourself right into that shower and come down for breakfast. If you're not up in ten minutes, I'm sending your father up.”

I roll my eyes. I'm not afraid of my dad. I'm also not afraid of my mum. Both of them are jokes when they're angry.

With a heavy sigh, I roll out of my bed five minuites later and shuffle my way into the bathroom, dragging my feet along the carpet as I go. I take my time in the shower to piss Mother off more, standing under the hot spray long after I've rinsed off. I only get out after she comes pounding on the bathroom door and threatens to take my phone away if I'm not out in thirty seconds. 

“You know,” she begings at breakfast, “I'm upset with you that you refused to be part of the wedding party. You did this exact same thing with Gemma, and now you're doing it again.”

I bite back the smartass remarks ready to roll off my tongue. Instead, I say, “You could have said something before it wasn't too late. Stop me, even.”

Mother isn't impressed. “It's not my decision, thought I'm disappointed with the one you chose. So was Greyson. He believes you don't care about him or Lillian.”

“I care about Greyson and Lillian somewhat, but I don't care about them getting married,” I say. “Besides, it's not like you can change things now.”

She presses her lips together in a hard line and turns to fill a bowl of cereal for Cynthia. “Still, I'm disappointed,” she repeats.

I pretend I don't hear her as I take a sip of my orange juice. I don't need my mum's immaturity today. Because that is what this is: immaturity. I can't stand it when she thinks it's okay to give me a lecture the day of something when other days hold the perfect opportunity. It's the only time I'm not invisible to her. I prefer to be invisible.

Father sits at the end of the table, reading the morning newspaper and sipping his coffee. I know he doesn't care about the crossword puzzles or sports pages, but he pretends to for my mother. She has this view of a perfect family that we all do our best to fufil, though it gets harder as the years go by. I'm the odd one out, followed closely by Holden. But he still sort of wants to get married, so that puts him way ahead of me.

“Anything funny in the comics, Dad?” Cynthia asks, always the charmer. She tries too hard to be Mother's perfect little girl. With Gemma, her true favourite, out of the picture, it's possible. Very unlikely, but possible. A one in a million chance is still a chance.

“Not today,” he replies. He doesn't say anything else, but his eyes are darting over to Mother's. Some secret code they have for _“am I being perfect for you?”_ It's really quite disgusting. 

I push my chair back and set my bowl in the sink, all prepared to leave the kitchen and go to my room and on my phone, but my mum does seem to have a talent at ruining everything.

“Children ask to be excused before they leave the table,” she reprimends.

I scoff. “I'm seventeen, Mum. I stopped being a child six years ago. You know, Cynthia is still a child. Why don't you baby her like the person she is?”

“Harry!” She scolds. I grit my teeth. “If you keep up that attitude, you'll be grounded.”

“It's not like I have any friends,” I mutter to myself as I leave the room. I slam the door to my bedroom, and the last thing I hear is my mother saying, “Joeseph, he's out of control,” and my father replying with, “What do you want me to do about it?”

I fall to my bed and scream, muffling it in my pillow. I hate my family. Cynthia gets on my nerves and she's too immature for me. Greyson is too old and Brody is too young. James and Holden barely meet the cutoff. I don't want to live with Mother's need to be perfect—the family that everyone is jealous of. The last time I checked, there wasn't a line of people at school waiting to bed my friend.

It's hard being directly in the middle of seven. Sometimes I just want to pack my things and live at my aunt's farm. I loved Aunt Diane. I still do. I can't bring her back, though, so I like to think about the animals on her farm we had to sell to get through and keep her memory alive. It helps most of the time, but then there are days where I miss Aunt Diane a lot. She was the only one who understood me. If she were here right now, she'd be tying my tie for me and saying, “It's just one day, Harry. If you can make it through this one, you can make it through the next.” I really miss my aunt Diane. 

When a knock sounds at my door, I know it's my father from the way he hesitates near the end, as if he's waiting for my mum's approval. She has him tied around her finger, but I don't understand why.

“Come in,” I say, sitting up on the edge of my bed and running my fingers through my hair. It's wet, sticky, and clings to my fingers. It hurts when the roots are tugged.

“Hey.” Father closes my door and comes to sit on the edge of my bed. “Your mother asked me to help you get ready.”

“Thanks, but I don't need help,” I decline.

His smile looks worn out. “She also wants me to talk to you. This was kind of an excuse. Can you go with it?”

I search my dad's eyes, finding nothing but raw desperation and the need to please Mother's demands. She's swallowed him up, and I don't see him recovering any time soon. With a sigh, I nod, motioning to my closet. Father knows what to do from here.

I love my dad. He was the second person I came out to, right after Aunt Diane, who hugged me and said, “Harry, what's important to me is that you're a good person, not that you're gay or straight.” Father said, “Gay or straight, you're still my son, and I love you so much.” It made me tear up because he doesn't tell us he loves us very often, but when he does, it's always special and with his whole heart.

“Is this about Aunt Diane?” he asks as he lays my suit out on my bed.

After a bit of prodding, I answer him. “The last time I did this, I had her here. Now I don't. It hurts.”

Father sighs and reaches out to hug me, rubbing my shoulder. His  _ I love you _ s are rare, but his hugs are even rarer. Besides my aunt Diane, Dad gives the best hugs. 

“I know it's hard, but today isn't about you or me or Aunt Diane. It's about Greyson and Lillian,” he says. “It hurts, I know, but what would your aunt say?”

“She'd tell me that the sun can't shine unless I have a smile on my face,” I answer.

Dad smiles. “That's what you're going to do, right? Smile and be there for Greyson and Lillian?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, even though I don't like Lillian very much.

“Good.” He gives me a final squeeze. “I love you. Let's get you ready.”

“Okay,” I agree. “Oh, and Dad?” He raises his eyebrows. “I love you, too.”

He kisses my forehead and steps back, going to my closet to pull out my slacks and dress shirt. I've forgotten how nice it feels to be noticed after all this commotion with Greyson's wedding taking my parents' attention away from me.

Once I'm dressed, Father slips my tie around my neck and ties it, his fingers making quick work of the knot. It's not like Aunt Diane's, but it's neat and he cares, so it has to count for something. I can't talk to my dad the way I could talk to my aunt Diane, and I don't want to. Long, personal, deep chats are for on the top of my aunt's barn roof with her only. But she's dead, so now those secrets are reserved for me, only being spoken on her barn roof when I'm alone, which happens more often than it doesn't. 

“I'm proud of you,” Father tells me, kissing the top of my head this time.

For the first time in years, I'm not eager to move out on my eighteenth birthday, which is soon approaching. I feel so young and small in my father's grasp, and I want him to protect me from everything. My mother, my siblings, marriage, the world. I want him to stand up for himself and his children, tell my mum off and do something about everyone's unhappiness.

I get it now. Why Gemma was in such a rush to move out and get married and have a family of her own. She's always hated attention, too. After eighteen years it must have become too much. And Greyson. He'd always pretended to be strong. I guess Mother broke him like the rest of us. James is nineteen. He's next. Mum is going to destroy him for not having a girlfriend to propose to at nineteen. I hate her most of the time.

When we arrive at the wedding, we're late, and Mother doesn't let us here the end of it. Like usual, most of the blame is put on me. Stress makes my controlling mother crazier. If that's possible.

Lillian's niece and nephew, Victoria and Jayme, her brother's twelve year old twins, scan down the list for my name. It takes them a bit to get to “Styles” because Jayme is stupid and Victoria is a bossy pants, but they manage it. I don't get it, because they know me. I'm their aunt's brother-in-law.

“Over there,” Victoria says. “Section A, because you're part of the groom's family. Row two, right beside Greyson's professor's kids. You're beside the son. Just ask for Louis Tomlinson. He's who you're sitting beside.”

“He gets it, Victoria,” Jayme snaps. “Or should I say Tori? Toria? Ooh, Victor. Yes, that's your name. _Victor_.”

“Shut up, Jayme.” She huffs and flicks his ear before turning to me. “Sorry about him, he's a prick. But you know this. Anyway, just over there, Harry.”

“Great. Thanks, Vic,” I say. That's the only nickname she'll accept.

I scan the rows until I see a family of eight—six kids and two adults. Two are sons and the rest are girls—two are babies, which makes me cringe—so I hedge my bets and sit beside the son.

“Louis Tomlinson?” I question when he glances at me.

“Yep.” He nods. “Harry Styles?”

“That's me,” I reply. “Brother of the groom. How do you know him?”

“My step-dad teaches him at Cambridge,” Louis answers. “They're pretty close, I guess. I got dragged here. No offense to your brother or anything, but weddings are _so_ overrated.”

I chuckled. “I'm with you, man. Why do you think I'm not in the wedding party?”

“Touché.” He snorted. “Other than Greyson, you got any siblings?”

“One less than you do,” I tell him. “Two sisters and four brothers. There's Gemma, the oldest, then Greyson, James, me, Holden, Brody, and Cynthia. Oldest is twenty-three and the youngest is eleven. We're all two years apart.”

“Wow. That's quite a family, but I still think I have you beat,” he challenges. “Half-sister from my real dad. Four sisters from my old step-dad, and two babies from my current step-dad. I'm the oldest. I'm twenty. Then there's Charlotte, fourteen, Felicite, twelve, Daisy and Phoebe—they're twins—are eight, and Doris and Ernest—the newest set of twins—are, like, seven months old. Oh, and I don't know anything about my half-sister from my real dad. I've never met her.”

My eyes are wide. “That's pretty... diverse. For lack of a better word.”

Louis shakes his head, laugh lighting up his eyes. “Let's go with that, Harry. You're funny. A funny man with a big family that despises marriages. What a character.”

He slaps his knee, and I have an easy time laughing along with him. When music starts to play, I slip a pen out of my pocket and say, “Give me your hand, I'll write down my number.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Oh.” My cheeks flush. “Well, I mean, you're nice and I'd like to get to know you.”

“Sure, we can do that,” he agrees, extending his arm to me. I scribble the numbers out on the back of his hand. “Great, I'll text you later. I guess we should be quiet now.”

“Yeah,” I agree, falling silent.

Greyson comes down the aisle first and takes his place by the priest. He looks so nervous, and I guess I would be as well if I were a twenty year old giving my life away to one person for life. Lillian's father walks her down next and gives her over to Greyson. He takes her hands and whispers to her before getting into position.

I study the way he looks at her as he begins reciting his vows. Even I have to agree with everyone else and say their love is beautiful, but I selfishly think of how their honeymoon will deprive me of even more attention.

I sit silently as Lillian starts on her vows, tears gathering in her eyes. Beside me, Louis yawns. I have to stiffle a laugh at this. Mother, sitting right in front of me, turns around and shushes me. I glare at her and slump down in my seat, which earns me a warning eyebrow. I feel the urge to piss her off even more, so I don't correct my posture.

I'm happy for Greyson. Honestly. He's found someone he loves, someone he wants to make a life with, and I'm on his side. The only side I'm not on is the one allowing twenty year olds to get married. What if they break up in a year or two? Then they've spent all this money on a wedding, only to throw it away on a divorce. If they'd only wait a few more years, just to see if they really want to be together for life, but it's too late now. If one of them is to leave, I'm betting Lillian. Greyson is too in love to put up a fight.

After the two of them kiss, I head into reception, Louis ditching his family to walk with me. When I notice, I slow down match my strides with his.

“That was interesting,” he comments, snorting.

I roll my eyes. “Don't even. _Please_. My mum cried the whole time planning this and the whole time they were getting married. I'm over weddings. Thank god James doesn't have a girlfriend, or else I'd be going through this in another year.”

“What's the rush?” Louis questions in bewilderment.

“I've been asking myself that question since Gemma got married,” I reply.

“When is it going to be your turn, then?” he teases, winking.

I push his shoulder. “Never. I'm completely single. What about you?”

“Single,” he answers. “I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago. It was mutual, though. We just grew apart. Anyway, I'm rambling. Anyone you're interested in?”

I study him for a moment. I don't want him to stop rambling. With a smirk gracing my lips, I say, “There's this one guy.”

He squints, meeting my eyes in questioning. When he doesn't get a response, he says, “Yeah, me too.”

We continue to stare at each other until Father claps me on the shoulder and begins to guide me away. I pull away from his grip, standing with my shoulders squared.

“I'm having a conversation,” I inform him.

“Well, we're getting ready to cut the cake,” he challenges me.

“I'm not sitting with you,” I snap.

Dad opens his mouth to say something, but Louis interjects with, “That's alright, Harry, you go sit with your family. I'll text you, yeah?”

Before I can say anything, he walks away, and I'm left with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Father drags me away by my wrist, and I'm so angry with him for ruining the moment Louis and I had building.

I sit beside Holden at our table, James on the other side and Cynthia across from me. I grumble to myself when a plate of steak is placed in front of me. Greyson knows I don't eat meat; this has to be Lillian's doing. Her hatrid for me must run deep.

I pick at it with my fork to make it look like I'm eating before I start into the vegetables. There's mashed potatos with gravy, green beans with butter, broccoli, and corn. It tastes like Peaches and Cream, which is by far my favourite. I dig in.

I don't look at my steak at all. I'm waiting for Mother or Father to clue in and ask the waiters to bring me something else, but they don't. Eventually, James clues in and takes the meat off my plate. I can't watch him eat it.

“How can you do that?” I ask him, scrunching my nose up. “That was a helpless, _living_ cow once. You don't see it eating you.”

“That's because cows aren't smart enough to eat people, Harry,” he replies.

“Maybe they are, but they happen to be considerate, so they don't eat us,” I shoot back.

He rolls his eyes. “Will you just be quiet? God, you're so childish. It's just a cow. It's not like one dead one is going to make a difference. They're not going extinct.”

My throat tightens. “Thousands are killed just so we can eat. That's not right. Do you know how inhumanely they're killed?”

“It's a bullet to the head, it doesn't hurt,” he argues.

“You're wrong,” I snap. “They're hooked up to a conveyer belt on the ceiling by their ankles alive. Then they're brought to a latch, let go, and roll down into a small, dark room where they land in the blood of the other cows. Then they're shot. So don't give me that.”

James opens his mouth, but Mother interjects with, “Harry, why did you give your steak to James? Lillian and Greyson paid a lot of money for this.”

“You know that I'm a vegetarian.” There's an edge to my voice.

“It's not going to kill you to eat a steak one time,” Father adds.

Tears burn my eyes. “A cow died to give you that steak. It will kill me to eat it, because I'll give my life back to it if I eat something that didn't have a choice in its death.”

“Oh, don't be silly.” He shakes his head, reaching to take the meat off James' plate and put it back on mine, but I jerk it to the side.

“You can't make me eat that,” I say.

“Come on, Dad, I was eating that,” James informs him.

Father swears under his breath. “You cause this family a lot of problems,” he says, looking straight at me.

I poke at the broccoli, hair hanging in front of my eyes to conceal my tears. I don't want Dad to know he's broken me. I'm tired of arguing with my parents. I refuse to eat meat for the rest of my life. I won't eat something that didn't have a choice in how it was raised and killed. It's just not happening, and if my dad can't see that, then I don't need special moments with him like I had earlier today. If he'll refuse to accept me being a vegetarian eight years after I declared I'm one, I don't want to be close to him. I don't love him _that_ much. Maybe I'll salvage a bond with my mother. Not likely, but.

Holden taps me on the arm. When I look at him, he says, “Do you want the rest of my vegetables?”

“Sure.” I smile and take them off his plate, moving them to mine. The gesture is small, but it makes me feel good. I love Holden. He's still my favourite brother... favourite sibling.

He lifts his eyebrows at me. “Aunt Diane's farm after this?”

“Of course,” I confirm.

It takes almost two hours before Holden and I can sneak off, but when we do, we don't stop running until we're so out of breath that we feel like we're going to collapse. It's then that I send a text to Mother so she doesn't punish us later. She probably will anyway, but this way it won't be as severe. It reads, _“Holden and I are at Aunt Diane's farm. Will be home before eight.”_

We're halfway through the gate before she texts me back. I ignore it for a moment before taking my phone out and read it. It says, _“You better be home before eight or I'm going to punish you both severely. When you get home you better put your phones on the kitchen table. Not happy.”_ She's pissed, but sometimes I like Mother that way. It's then that she truly loses control and shows who she really is. I like it better than I like the fake, perfect version of herself. She tries too hard. I like it when she forgets to put up her walls, even if I'm being punished.

“Mum's mad,” I inform Holden.

He shrugs. “I figured she would be. Who gives a shit? Not me, that's for sure.”

Sometimes I forget that Holden is fifteen. He likes to talk like Cynthia, young and naive, but then he swears a lot and I remember. I taught him all the bad words he knows. It started with simple things like _“damn it”_ and _“what the hell”_ , but then it quickly escalated to _“shit”_ and _“fuck”_ and other things that I typically don't say because of how rude they are. I taught him a few American swears that I learned from books. They're virtually the same, just said differently. The message is identical.

“Not me,” I agree with him weakly, because I kind of do. Louis is going to text me soon. I need my phone. Maybe if I can convince Mother I care, she'll let me have it back tonight.

Of course, Holden sees right through me. “What's wrong?” he demands.

I snort. “What isn't?”

“Don't give me that. Just tell me what's going on,” he instructs.

“Do you ever feel like Mum and Dad hate you?” I ask.

He shrugs again. “I don't know. Sometimes. They're tough sometimes, but I love them, and they love us.”

“That's not what I asked,” I mutter.

“You know, Harry, they wouldn't have to be so hard on you if you just listened to them once and a while,” he says.

I blink hard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He tilts his chin up. “How long do you expect me to be on your side when there isn't much for me to defend?”

Somtimes, Holden sounds so much older than usual. Right now, he sounds closer to my age. I don't think I like it.

“Holden, come on.” I try to laugh it off, hoping he's just joking. I know it's too good to be true, but I try it anyway. “Don't be like that,” I say next. “We're brothers, best friends. We always have each other's backs.”

“I need to start having my own.” He looks straight ahead. It hurts more than his cold glare ever did.

“Holden,” I snap, “stop. Why are you being like this?”

“Because I like a girl,” he says. “I want to marry her one day, and I don't want you to judge me about it.”

I start laughing. “Are you serious? Holden, you're fifteen years old. What do you know about love? Are you even dating her?”

“No,” he replies. “But that doesn't mean I don't love her.”

“What's her name?” I attempt to play along.

“Sionna,” he replies. “She's fourteen, but she's turning fifteen real soon. She just has a late birthday.”

I try to keep my snort hidden. “Right. Yeah. Alright. Okay, Holden. I'm not fighting for our relationship anymore. We're brothers, not friends, and it's going to stay that way. If you want Mum and Dad to agree to this marriage so you can commit to this girl at _fifteen_ , then go ahead, but don't expect my support.”

“I'm going home,” he declares.

“Cool. I'm staying until eight,” I say.

He huffs and stands, brushing grass off his legs before stalking off. When the gate slams shut, I'm halfway to my feet so I can go into the barn, but my phone beeps and I find myself compelled to check who texted me.

“ _Hey, it's Louis,”_ the text reads. Of course it's him. _Of course._

“ _Hey. What's up?”_ I send. 

“ _Really? You're going down that path?”_ he replies. 

I bite my lip, contemplating my response. His humour is borderline always sarcastic.  _“I guess I am. Have a problem with that?”_

I pray my text is witty and somewhat funny as I wait for Louis to text back. Whe he does, it's a simple, _“No need to get all defense.”_ I smack myself on the forehead.

“ _Sorry.”_ I reply. 

“ _No need to be,”_ he answers. After a moment, when I've already typed two texts and deleted them, Louis sends, _“You're cute.”_

I cough, not used to this kind of bold flirting. I'm not used to any flirting at all. _“I have to go,”_ I send quickly before shutting off my phone and slipping it into my back pocket. I hug my knees for a minute before standing up and sprinting to the gate. After that, I stop and walk, breathing the fresh air and letting it clear my head.

By the time I'm home, it's seven thirty, and Mother is cleaning the stove. I go to set my phone down beside Holden's and she nods.

“Thank you,” she says.

A whatever is on the tip of my tongue, but I look at the worn down expression on my mum's face and decide against it. Instead, I say, “Mum, can we talk for a bit?”

She dries her hands on the dish rag and studies my face for a second. Finally, she concludes, “Sure. Everything okay?”

“No.” I shake my head. I've never been very close to my mother, but I feel the need to have her make things her version of okay. “Can we talk in my room? Please?”

“Of course,” she answers.

Mum follows me upstairs, her hand hovering above my shoulder but not touching. She's good at comfort, but I haven't sought my mother out since I was eleven. I don't think she knows what to do with herself, just like I don't know what to do with myself.

She lays with me on my bed, my head tucked into her neck for the first time in years. She rubs my back and I squeeze her arms, blinking hard.

“What's wrong?” she prods.

I sniffle. “Everything, Mum. No one pays attention to me anymore.”

She sighs. “I'm not even going to try and deny it. I know I've been kind of tough on you your whole life, always pushing marriage and whatnot, but I'm not going to apologize for it. I want what's best for you and your siblings. My parents were never married, and trust me, I paid for it. They called me Bastard Child for being born out of wedlock. That's why I stress it so much, because I don't want you or your kids to go through the same thing.”

“I don't want kids.” I know it's the wrong thing to say, but I can't think of a better response. Only my mother can make a situation about me turn into a situation about her.

She kisses my temple. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Holden,” I respond. “Mum, he has this girl he's crushing on, not even dating, and he wants to talk you and Dad into letting him marry her. At _fifteen_. Please say no. He's too young, Mum, he's too young for marriage.”

“Harry,” Mother breathes, stroking my hair. With another sigh, she says, “I wouldn't allow Holden to get married at fifteen to a girl he's not commited to. I may be high strung, but I'm not crazy.”

“Let's go with that.” I snort.

“Hey!” She swats at my arm, chuckling.

Once I've sobered up, I hesitate a moment before I begin speaking. “Mum?”

“Hmm?” She encourages me with a hum, kissing across my forehead like she used to do when I was little. I've missed it so much.

“There's this boy,” I start. “Greyson's professor's son, Louis. We met at the wedding and hit it off. We started texting and he said that I'm cute, but I don't know what to do about it. We only just met. I have the power to end it before it gets too serious or continue to talk to him and see where it goes, but I don't know what to do.”

“Wow, that's a lot of words.” I shake my head, smiling at Mother's not-so-funny humour. “I think you should get to know him. Who knows, baby, maybe you've found yourself a keeper.”

“Maybe,” I echo. “I'm tired, I think I'm going to go to sleep. Will you stay with me, though?”

“Course, baby. Oh, and you can have your phone back in the morning.” Mother turns off my bedside lamp and holds me close, stroking her fingers over my back and through my hair, soothing me to sleep.

It only feels like a few moments until I'm waking up from the sun shining. Mother isn't beside me anymore and I can smell bacon from the kitchen, along with waffles, which I know are for me. Maybe things are changing. This is one of the better sleeps I've had.

I pad down to the kitchen in my Soft Moc slippers and steal a plate of waffles from the counter and the syrup and whip cream from the fridge.

“Hey, young man, those are for everyone. You ask before you take,” Mother scolds. It was dumb of me to assume that things would be that different.

“Sorry.” I don't mean it, but I say it anyway. I sit down at the table with the plate of waffles and take two of them, putting them on the plate on the mat that's by the chair I'm sat on. I drown it with syrup, cover it with whip cream, and pretend Mother isn't staring at me like she wants to take my phone away again.

Brody steals a waffle from the plate and grabs the whip cream bottle, covering it the same way I have. Mother glares at him, too, and then at Cynthia as she copies the both of us. Father smiles from his end of the table. He's not reading his newspaper today. It could be a fluke or permanent change. I hope for the second one, though I'm not naive enough to think that one night will make that much difference.

When Holden comes downstairs, we make eye contact before we both look away. We don't speak to each other like we normally would. We might as well be strangers instead of brothers. I'm to stubborn to make the first move, so I don't make an effort at all. Neither Mother or Father seem to catch on, not when James comes stumbling through the front door with hickeys on his neck. That's another American word I know from my books. I taught Holden this one, too.

As my parents get distracted scolding him, despite James being of age, I manage to grab my phone and slip out the door. I don't care that I'm not dressed other than a hoddie and plaid cotton pants. I don't care that I'm still in my Soft Moc slippers. All I care about is getting some air and distancing myself from the train wreck in progress.

I'm able to think clear enough to text Mother and tell her where I am. I also am not thinking so clearly because I text Louis next and tell him where I am. I also ask him to meet me. Something is definitely wrong with me.

When he shows up, he's in jeans and a giant sweatshirt, male Ugg boots on his feet. To any other person, we must look like quite the pair. Part of me likes it. I want to take my mother's advice and get to know him and have him get to know me in return.

“So,” he greets after a moment, fidgeting.

“Hey. Sorry I look like crap. I kind of just left. I needed air,” I say.

He waves his hand. “Don't worry about it, we all have those days.”

“Do you have them often?” I ask.

“Harry, my mother just had twin _babies._ What do you think?” He looks at me, incredulous.

“Touché,” I mumble.

What he says next surprises me. “I meant what I said. You're cute. So let's share secrets. Get out all the bad stuff and private confessions and still see if we want to do this.”

“Um.” I look at him with wide eyes. “Are you on drugs by any chance?”

Louis barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. God, Harry, no. I'm just being straight forward. People want different things, and I want us to get this together in the beginning before we really commit to a relationship with each other and then discover later that we aren't a perfect match.”

“Wow,” I mutter. I don't know how to feel. “Fine, I guess we're doing this. We're going to share secrets—very _private_ things—even though we've only known each other for a day. Wow. Okay.”

He glares at me. “Don't be that way. I'm just trying to spare us both a broken heart.”

“I get it.” I don't bother spitting my words at him this time. They're soft, somewhat gentle. “You want me to tell you things I wouldn't even tell my own diary.”

He scoffs. “You have one of those?”

“There's my first secret,” I say, the bite somewhat returning. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” Louis paused to think. “I stole fifty pounds from my mum once.”

I shrug. “Who hasn't? I thought these were supposed to be good secrets.”

“Alright then. If you're so certain, why don't you give me what you deem a good secret, huh?” he challenged.

I swallow hard as personal things raced through my head. I'm going to pick something small, but this big story is pouring out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop it. When I'm done, Louis is left stunned, his mouth agape.

“And he's fifteen, you said?” he asks.

I nod. “Yup. Crazy, huh?”

This isn't even my secret, yet I feel the need to continue anyway. Now that I've started, I can't stop.

“And now Holden and I aren't even talking,” I add. “It's been a few hours, but I kind of miss him.”

Louis rolls his eyes. He does that a lot. “Kind of?”

“Okay, tons,” I clarify. “Me and Holden are best friends. Well, were.” When I see his raised eyebrow, I say, “Yes, I meant Holden and _I_. Now be quiet.”

He snorts. “That's charming.”

“Shut up,” I fire back. He rolls his eyes again. “I don't want to get married,” I continue. “Like, ever. I don't want kids, either. So if that's something you're going to want out of life, I don't suggest you being with me. It'll be a waste of time.”

“I like the idea of having kids or getting married,” he says, “but I think I can look past that.”

I nod. “Good to know.”

Eventually, we move to the grass, where we lay side by side with our arms touching. I tell him things and he tells me things, and after a while, it's like I've known him way longer than a day.

“All I'm saying is that I don't think Mum's marriage to Daniel is going to last much longer,” he says.

“Third time's the charm?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Doubt it. Relationships scare me because of all this shit between Mum and her exes. I'm afraid of getting my heart broken.”

Louis turns his head. When I look into his eyes, I can't believe how vulnerable he's allowing himself to be for me. I know all his personal stuff and he knows all of mine. After everything he's told me, I still have the beginnings of a crush, and I can't help but want him to know.

“I still like you,” I say. “Even after all of this.”

He smiles. “I'm going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

I sit up, colour blooming in my cheeks as Louis follows my movements and pulls me onto his lap. No one has ever kissed me before, and I hope he can't see how nervous I am. He runs his hands down my spine and up under my shirt, palms pressed to the small of my back.

“Is this okay?” he asks, leaning in. He's close enough for me to feel his breath over my face.

I nod in response. I don't trust myself to speak. Louis keeps one hand pressed to the bottom of my spine, sliding the other one up my chest to cup my cheek. When his lips finally touch mine, there's this initial shock before my brain registers that I should be kissing him back.

It doesn't feel right. As I start moving my lips, just carefuly at first, it doesn't feel like I think it should. I'm too clumsy and Louis has his head tilted too far to the side. We don't match up.

There's this sinking feeling in my gut when he pulls back frowning, but then he's surging forward to kiss me again and it feels right this time. His lips are slotted loosely between mine, and when I nudge mine back, he parts his lips more, pulling me closer with his hand still on my face.

It feels like forever until Louis finally pulls away, and when he does, my lips feel wet and cold. Nothing clever to say pops into my brain, so I sit with an open mouth on his lap, more than likely looking stupid. He moves his hand off my cheek and removes the other from my shirt, locking them behind my back and pecking me on the lips. I smile when he follows the kiss up by placing one on my nose.

“You've never kissed anyone before, have you?” he asks.

I fight my frown. Louis' attitude is something I know I'll have to get over. I can accept it. It may go to far from time to time, but I grew up with four brothers. I can handle it.

I shake my head. “Never kissed anyone. Why, was I that horrible?”

“Um.” He chuckles awkwardly, unsure of how to answer. “You weren't horrible. It was just obvious that you haven't kissed anyone other than me.”

My cheeks flame. “Sorry,” I say without thinking. When his forehead puckers, I know it was the wrong thing.

“Don't be,” he says. “If I asked you to be my boyfriend even though it's barely been a day, would you punch me?”

“No,” I answer. “Go ahead, ask me. I'll probably say yes.”

“I'm scared,” he admits. “My last relationship ended badly.”

I already know this. He told me about Sabastian. He cheated on Louis with John. I don't know who John is, but Louis doesn't like him. He also doesn't like Sabastian. I don't blame him.

“Who would I cheat on you with? My brothers?” I say this to lighten the mood, and even though Louis smiles, it doesn't look real and I can tell that he's still tense. I want to fix it with one of Cynthia's Jolly Ranchers, but candy isn't going to help me.

“Funny.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Why don't you ask me?”

“Because you're the one who needs to overcome a fear, not me,” I respond.

“Real funny.” He rolls his eyes. He does it too often, I'm learning. “Remind me again why I like you.”

I swat him on his shoulder. “Louis, just ask me.”

“Or I could just call you my boyfriend and you can call me yours,” he suggests.

I sigh, giving in. “Fine, whatever works for you. Chicken.”

“Shut up.” He laughs.

Louis pulls me in for another kiss, both of us smiling, and it's even more awkward than the first, but I like it. I like this boy. I even love my mother for convincing me to get know him. And, as the months tick by, I find myself getting to know him more and more.

The day he meets my family is a big day. I met his at month four and now we've passed that by two more, concluding that we've been together a whole six months. It's such a big deal that Gemma and Sam, Greyson and Lillian, and even James' girlfriend, Mya, have to be here. It never worked out with Holden and that girl. I know that Louis is feeling the pressure, but when I kiss him at the front door and he kisses me back until Father clears his throat, I can tell he feels a little more secure.

“Mum, Dad,” I begin, “this is Louis. Louis, this is my mum, Anne, and my dad, Joeseph. My siblings can all introduce themselves to you on their own because there's too many of them for me to remember their names.”

Mother shoots me a look, but Louis starts chuckling and relaxing at my side, so she calms her expression and kisses him on the cheek. My father shakes his hand after, even throwing in a small smile. I watch as he sizes him up, eyes roaming up and down, and I'm suddenly uncomfortable.

“It's great to meet you,” my mum says. She elbows Father's side.

He adds, “Yes, it's nice to have a face to the boy Harry never stops talking about.”

“ _Dad_ ,” I hiss, but Louis sets a hand on my arm and laughs.

“No, that's okay. I like that you talk about me.” He grins at me.

Of course, Cynthia picks that minute to come racing around the corner. She's even more embarrassing than Louis' twin sisters, and they're pretty bad. They're even a year younger.

She eyes him before she turns to me and wiggles her eyebrows. She also picks this moment to embarrass me by saying, “He's hot, Harry.”

Louis barks out a laugh and I want to strangle Cynthia. Instead, I lead him to the kitchen by his hand and say, “Okay, time for you to meet my less embarrassing family members.” Then to my siblings, I say, “Guys, this is Louis. Tell him your name and don't make it confusing because there's a lot of you.”

Sam is the first to speak on this. “Harry, really?”

I can't stop myself from saying my response. “But out, will you? Gemma, why don't you control your guy?”

Mother shoots me another look, this one more angry than the one before. The message is clear enough. If I keep this up, Louis will be going home and there won't be a dinner with the family and one won't be happening ever again. I can read her quite well.

My sister reaches across the table to shake his hand. “I'm Gemma. This is my husband, Sam. Beside me here is Greyson and his wife, Lillian. Beside me here is James and Mya, his girlfriend. Beside you is Brody and beside Harry is Holden. You've met my parents and Cynthia.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” My mother's smile is cocky as she looks at me from the corner of her eye. She's sitting at one end of the table, Father on the other end.

I eat my plate of vegetables and proteins with my supplement pills while making small talk with my family and Louis. My mum and my dad laugh when he tells jokes and even Sam talks to me. Holden smiles and nods at me, and I know then that we're okay again. We're back to being just friends.

After we've finished eating, Louis offers to help Mother clean up the table. He's making such a big effort to make a good impression. I know this because he never likes to do dishes or do his own laundry. This feeling of pride washes over me, followed closely by love. He wouldn't be trying so hard to make my family love him if he didn't love me.

When desert is finished, I lead Louis out to the front yard and kiss him, sliding my hands into his back pockets as he cups my face. I can feel things changing around me. As he continues to kiss me, I feel on fire. My lips feel tingly. I love it... Just like I love him.

There's no doubt in my mind that I love him, and I want him to know so badly. I want to give him a part of me I haven't shown anybody else.

“I have to show you something,” I say against his lips, already pulling back to wrap my hand around his wrist. “Come on.”

I run with him down the street, not waiting for a response. I tug hom down the road and up the gravel path to my aunt Diane's farm. As I open the gate, he asks, “Is this your aunt's farm?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I want to show you something.”

In times like this, I fully expect him to make a smart remark and roll his eyes, but he doesn't. He smiles and wraps his arm around me as I lead him up the field and to the barn. I lead him up the ladder, where there's a twin bed and a small TV. Aunt Diane installed it when I was thirteen and started needing a place to escape to. I want Louis to be a part of this.

“So...” I trail off, scratching at my arm as I collect my thoughts. “This used to be my safe haven. I want to include you in this.” I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, already leaning into kiss him. “Louis, I love you.”

His eyes widen. Instead of answering, he kisses me, turning and pushing me down on the bed. When he straddles me, my heart rate starts to quicken. I've never had sex with anyone before, and I'm scared. He hasn't said it back yet.

He spends a long time touching me and I spend a long time touching him back. He fingers me open slow, and when he finally presses inside, and clench my fingers into his skin and move my body with his. He says it back when he comes, gasping it into my neck and kisses me after.

As I rest my head on his chest and he strokes my back, he asks, “Do you love me enough to marry me?”

“No,” I answer, laughing.

He laughs, too. “Right.”

He kisses me again, and I don't want him to know I'm lying. I love Louis enough to marry him. I never thought that I'd ever say that, but I am now, and I don't think I'd have it any other way. I'm even considering children.

 


End file.
